


its too cold (for you)

by downthedarkpath, mitikune



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon, Canon Divergence, DreamSMP - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other, PTSD, The Prison, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 12:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downthedarkpath/pseuds/downthedarkpath, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitikune/pseuds/mitikune
Summary: Tommy swallowed. He felt tears burn in the back of his throat. He said, “I never… I never thought I’d come back either. I just wanted to- to go home.”
Relationships: Phil Watson & Technoblade - Relationship, Phil Watson & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 180





	its too cold (for you)

The perpetual fear that Tommy felt as he stared Dream in the eyes was unmatched. His heart was hammering in his chest, and every second spent alongside that  _ monster _ was torture. Since being revived, Tommy had been more terrified of Dream than ever before. He did nothing but sit, curled up on top of the chest, the farthest point away from him he possibly could be, and wait. Beg. Plead. Cry to himself, waiting desperately to try to catch a glimpse of a name tag through the lava wall. But it never came, not for what felt like centuries. No matter when it could’ve come, it never would’ve felt soon enough.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was stuck here with Dream anyway, Dream every once in a while would try to  _ speak _ with him again. The mere sound of his voice was enough to make Tommy want to cry, or leap at him and claw his eyes out, either one. Sometimes, he was vengeful. Sometimes, he wanted Dream dead. Sometimes, he was just a sixteen-year-old who wanted to be held, and promised it was going to be okay. That not everyone forgot about him. That not everyone would, or could have gotten over his death this quickly.

But he was beginning to wonder.

Finally, after a few days, Dream spoke up again. “Look at that, Tommy,” he said, and Tommy didn’t lift his head. Not at first, anyway. “Your savior.”

And he heard his voice. “Why are you talking to Tommy? His ghost already haunting your ass? Serves you right.”

Tommy fell out of the space where he’d wedged himself between the glowstone and the chest, gasping and crawling towards the lava like a madman. “Sam! Sam!” He screamed out the name, his throat raw and rippling with pain. “Sam, I’m here! I’m alive! Sam, please let me out!” And that’s when the tears came. He curled up in a ball in front of the lava, nails digging into his knees as he let out sob after wretched sob. Even Dream stared at the mess that the teen had become. All Tommy did besides heave breaths and sob, was cry out for Sam. The only one who could help him.

Thank god he did.

He managed to get out, and somehow even managed to leave Dream to rot inside. Rot for eternity, burn in Hell, for all Tommy cared, he didn’t know what would become of Dream. He didn’t want to know. All he knew was that any potential doubt, any inkling of a whisper that maybe he deserved redemption someday, was gone. Dream was a terrible, devilish excuse for a human being. One that never deserved to see the light of day again. One that never would, if Tommy could do anything about it.

“What’d he do?” Sam asked, staring at Tommy as if he’d seen a ghost. Maybe he had. “What happened in there? You died, right? I know you died, I saw… you…”

“I died,” Tommy repeated, voice a mere, shaking whisper, the “d” consonant stuttering against his chattering teeth, “and  _ he _ brought me back.”

“So… they’re real. The books,” Sam began. “That’s… well, at least we know that we did the right thing. That we kept him in here for a reason, right? Did he say anything about them? Any clues to where they were, or?”

“No, nothing,” Tommy said, sitting against a bench in the prison, holding a glass of water. It was a tiny act of hospitality that Sam offered. Tiny, but he’ll take it. He doesn’t blame Sam for not knowing how to help. He wouldn’t know how to help him, either. “I begged him to burn them. He said he didn’t have them. That burning them, at this point, would do no good. That he already has the knowledge. He brought me back without them, so… he has to be telling the truth. He was a sick, sick, dangerous bastard before, but  _ now? _ God help us,” Tommy let out a broken laugh.

“So… what was it like?” Sam asked.

“What was what like?” Tommy dreaded where he knew the question was going to go.

“Dying. Being dead. What did it feel like?”

The question sent him back to the prison cell, coming to and realizing himself with the world around him only to be prompted with ten thousand questions from the man beside him. Dream. Dream, Dream, Dream. He could never escape Dream. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tommy croaked miserably, his hands beginning to tremble. “I never want to talk about it again.”

“I understand, but… Tommy, the knowledge that you have could help us become… immortal. No one’s come back from death before. We could be immortal, together.”

Sam was trying to do what he thought was the right thing. Tommy understood that. But the wording, the way he phrased things, the way it bounced around his brain like a bullet, the way Dream had said the same thing, word for word, less than a week prior…

“Don’t!” Tommy shrieked, getting to his feet and dropping the cup, the water making a slick spot against the blackstone. “Just don’t! Don’t fucking talk to me about it, don’t fucking-- j-just don’t! Stop! Just let me be!” Tommy blabbered out, eyes wide and miserably terrified. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sam! Not with you, not with anyone! I don’t want to be immortal, I don’t want anyone to study death, I don’t want to be a labrat, I don’t want any of this! I never  _ asked _ for  _ any _ of this!”

“Tommy…” Sam took a step back, trying to calm him down.

“Just stop!” The blonde shrieked, before turning on his heel and sprinting towards the portal. His way out. Out, out, out. He didn’t want to spend another millisecond in this wretched place. He’s never coming back again.

He tried to go home. Tried to go to the only place he’d ever known. Tried to go to the only constant, his house, but he was met with a statue in his “honor”. Red and white flowers covered his lot, nothing was the way he left it. Everything was changed, and the flowers and statue were just a smack in the face. What happened. The fact he should be dead. Who killed him, and how. It was too much.

So he ran, again. He ran for the one person that felt like home, even when he shouldn’t. The only person that he had any semblance of faith left in at all. He ran, ran to the tundra, ran through the cold, and ran to Technoblade’s house. He bashed his fist against the door relentlessly, the cold of the dead of night searing his bones. “Technoblade!” He screamed, “open the door! Please! Open the door, please open the door!” He smashed his fist against the door so much that it hurt, and it was just another reminder.

He can’t escape.

Finally, the door opened, revealing a very annoyed and not at all concerned Technoblade. “Tommy, what the fuck are you doing here?” He snapped. 

“Where’s Phil?” Tommy’s voice was less word, and more trembling whisper. “Where is Phil? I need him. I need Phil.”

That gave a tiny spark of concern. “...aren’t you supposed to be--”

“Don’t!” Tommy covered his ears, shrinking down as he crouched, arms wrapping around his knees. “Don’t say it, don’t say it! Just tell me where Phil is and I’ll get out of your hair!”

The boy was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and it made Techno’s heart ache. “Uh, Phil’s… I’ll take you to him, come on. Get up.”

Tommy stood, on shaky legs, felt his knees weaken and he stumbled, tripping onto Techno’s cloak and muddying the hem of it. Techno doesn’t even reprimand him for it, not like he used to. His pity, sitting so obscenely on Techno’s face, burns, and Tommy felt spitting lava on his skin.

They walked in silence. Tommy can’t bring himself to speak - even if he did, he’s not sure what he would say. Techno always preferred his quiet anyway, and for once, Tommy listened to the rush of blood in his chest. It’s a white noise he thinks he’ll never forget again.

“Phil’s, um,” Techno gestured towards a fenced off field of wheat. The stalks were pale, short and flimsy in the tundra. “He’s here.”

And he was, slowly tilling dirt over and over. His own coat - long and ivy green - billowed behind him whenever the wind caught it. Tommy shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself, hooked weak fingers in his old shirt. He hadn’t had a chance to change since Sam freed him, his shirt now is sweat-stained, dusty, torn, and in the few places he doesn’t want to look, bloody.

Phil looked just like he remembered.

“Phil!” Techno shouted. Tommy suppressed his flinch, digging his fingernails into his palms. Phil looked up, frowning, and then widening his eyes when he saw Tommy.

He put his hoe away, tucking it into the belt at his waist. As he walked across the field, another gust of wind blew. His coat blew back once more, revealing a sheath with his sword and an axe. The man walking towards them was not anyone Tommy knew.

“What’s Tommy doing here?” Phil asked. His coat fell back into place, hiding his weapons. He had dirt under each of his nails, smeared across his palms. “I thought he was-”

“Don’t say it,” Techno said, before Tommy could. It’s a small relief, but Tommy reached and grabbed it, hoping against all hopes that he wouldn’t drown. “Uh. He’s been asking for you.”

Phil kept frowning. He looked older than Tommy had ever seen him. “We should probably go back inside. He looks like he’s about to die of hypothermia.”

He led the way back to Techno’s cottage. Tommy stepped over snow and ice and felt the cold settle deep into his bones. He doesn’t think he could ever want to be warm again.

Phil opened the door for them, letting Tommy step inside first. It’s been so long since he was last here, but not much has changed. He’s almost glad for it. Techno pulled a mismatched assortment of chairs out, circling them around the furnace, and Tommy sat in one of them. He started to dig through one of the chests, pulling out logs and coal.

Tommy watched as Techno stacked them in the furnace. He watched as Techno found a flint and steel. He watched as he struck it, lighting the flame. And then he watched as the logs started to catch.

“No!”

They both turned around. The flame flickered. 

“Put it- put it out. Please.”

“You’re cold, Tommy,” Phil said, frowning at him. “You need to warm up.”

Tommy shook his head. Old scars burn. “Please put it out. Put it out!”

“Okay,” Techno said, “okay, we’ll put it out. Phil, get him a blanket.”

The fire is gone. Tommy breathed. The air came easier. He felt Phil press something soft around his shoulders, and his hands came up to grip it instinctively. It smelt like… like home.

He looked like he wanted to ask something. Tommy heard the words before they came. Phil said, “Tommy… what are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t know?” Phil said, “there are lots of places for you to go. Niki’s, Jack’s, Sam’s, Tubbo’s-”

“No.”

“Why not?” Techno asked. He left the third chair empty. Tommy can see him by the door, with his arms folded. Like he used to.

Tommy shrugged, “Jack hates me. Niki isn’t even here. Tubbo’s got  _ married,  _ and Sam forgot about me.”

Saying it all aloud hurts more than keeping it in his head. Tommy felt it all bubble up in his chest, suffocating him.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Phil said.

“It is.”

“I doubt it-”

“It’s true.”

He listened to Phil take a breath in and breathe it out slowly. “Okay,” he said. “So you’re here because no one else was, is that it?”

Tommy bit down on his lip. “I just wanted to see you.”

Phil glanced back to Techno like he wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, here we are. You’ve seen us.”

“I thought you hated us,” Techno said. “I didn’t think you’d ever be back here.”

It hurt. If he listened, closely and carefully, he heard Techno say something so much  _ more _ . Tommy swallowed. He felt tears burn in the back of his throat. He said, “I never… I never thought I’d come back either. I just wanted to- to go  _ home _ .”

Phil’s eyes looked at the floor. Tommy watched his foot tap against the wood. He’s honest when he said, “I don’t know where home is for you, anymore.”

Tommy exhaled. His breath trembled. “I don’t know either.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed this! leave a comment if u feel like it :) - elle
> 
> find us on twitter!  
> [elle](https://twitter.com/ERR0RGEO) | [taro](https://twitter.com/mitikune_)


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